


Despair

by Sterek_ed (Thorki_ed)



Series: Despair, Reconciliation, Euphoria [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Isaac is the best, M/M, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts, and derek is adorable but won't admit it, and instead chooses to be dark and brooding, lots of brotp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorki_ed/pseuds/Sterek_ed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>de•spair<br/>diˈspe(ə)r/<br/>noun<br/>1. the complete loss or absence of hope.<br/>"driven to despair, he throws himself under a train"<br/>synonyms: hopelessness, discouragement, desperation,distress, anguish, unhappiness, Derek Hale</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of work in the Teen Wolf fandom, so feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Few points:  
> \- I'm going for slow-build and more character dialogue than I usually do, but what can I say, Stiles is quite the chatterbox.  
> \- Trying to keep everyone more in-character, keeping the OOC stuff for later if I feel like it.  
> \- Borrowed some stuff from Supernatural.  
> \- unbeta'd so mistakes are my own  
> \- come visit me at sterek--smut.tumblr.com :)

The first day, nobody batted an eyelash.

The second day – well there was some eyelash batting. Particularly from Stiles. But he’s already mentioned it to Scott, who brushes it off.

Nobody can deny that the third day is a little odd, even for Derek. Stiles mentions this to Scott again. More forcefully. Like, the force of his index finger jabbing into Scott’s ribs every five seconds. When the bell rings, he pounces.

“So, nobody’s heard from him?” he asked Scott as they made their way to Chemistry.

Scott shook his head as his eyes darted around in that I’m-slightly-worried manner. “I haven’t heard any news about Cora, and Deaton doesn’t seem to know anything either.”

“So, you’ve been looking?” Stiles asks.

“Yes I’ve been looking. It’s nerve-wracking not knowing what he’s up to.”

Stiles opens his mouth to point out that there should be some sort of concern for Derek’s well-being but closes his mouth instead, accepting that Scott’s reasons were still reasons. Anything to help their search.

“When was the last time you heard from him?”

Scott pulled out his phone to check his message history. “Tuesday morning. I texted him a couple times but he hasn’t responded.”

“Well do you think you should try to get a hold of Derek…. _in a different way_?”

“What, like call him?”

Stiles’ mouth drops open this time. Seriously, how did Scott even survive? “What? No, you idiot. I mean _awoOOOoOooooOOooo_ -ing him.”

Scott stops dead in his tracks, letting Stiles bump into his shoulder. Hard. Scott looked at his friend like he had grown five additional heads. “That’s a good idea too.”

“I know,” Stiles said smugly.

“Never make that sound again, by the way. It was awful.”

The smile dropped from Stile’s face but he hurried after Scott anyway.

\---

“ _Pssst_ , Isaac!”

The blonde rolled his eyes at the unnecessarily loud whisper, but turned around. “What?”

The two friends shared a glance of hesitation before Scott spoke. “I’m uh… Just wondering if you've heard from Derek lately?”

Isaac looks back and forth between the pair, squinting his eyes in suspicion. “Not since Tuesday night when he left… Why?”

“Did he tell you where he was going?”

“Not really, Derek’s not really a sharer,” Isaac said, still giving them some serious eye attitude.

Stiles runs his hand through his hair. He can’t really explain why he’s so concerned for Derek, since it’s obvious that Mr. I-Don’t-Need-Anyone’s-Help can take care of himself, but something just didn't seem right.

“Well, what about Peter? Does he know anything?”

“Peter’s been gone for like, two weeks. He went to visit Cora or something.”

“Don’t you feel it?” Stiles finally asks.

“Feel what?” Isaac retaliates, obviously irritated.

“Something’s just… wrong.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Derek takes off a lot and he comes back whenever he wants. Stop worrying so much,” Isaac reassures them. “I’ll let you know when he gets back to the loft.”

Scott nods and smiles. “Thanks.”

Isaac nods back before turning around in his seat to face the front.

Stiles looks between Isaac and Scott. _Unbelievable._ His friends were clueless, but Stiles knew something wasn’t right, and he was going to prove it.

__\---_ _

“Lydia, my favourite strawberry-blonde,” Stiles says through his widest smile, slamming into the locker next to hers.

“What do you want, Stiles?” Lydia mutters.

“I – what? Have you been taking eye attitude lessons from Isaac?”

Lydia’s eyes slowly squint as she scrutinizes Stiles. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Okay, okay, greater good, so um, I think Derek’s life is at stake and nobody will believe me but I think your banshee senses can prove my point,” Stiles shoots out without a breath.

Lydia stares blankly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And besides, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“But that’s what EVERYONE is saying.”

“Probably because EVERYONE is right, Stiles.”

Stiles watches as Lydia bounds away on her leopard-print heels. Unbelievable.

So, Stiles does what he does best.

____\---_ _ _ _

____“____ Stiles?” Isaac stares at his intruder’s fist, raised to knock.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey Isaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaac,” Stiles says awkwardly, eyes glancing at Isaac’s bare and slightly sweaty chest before looking back into Isaac’s slightly murderous eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m uhhhhh, checking in on my buddy. You. Yeah. Y’know, you don’t look very happy to see me… buddy.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow.

“Did you learn your eye-ttitude thing from Derek?” Stiles says, trying to diffuse the situation while looking around inside. He doesn’t see anything at first glance, and turns his attention to the potential werewolf blocking his path. “It’s very Derek-like. You’re getting good at it. Derek would be proud. If he were here. Which he isn’t.”

Isaac sighs, and steps out of the way. “Do whatever it is you’re here to do, but if you break anything, you answer to Derek.”

“Gotcha,” Stiles says, bolting through the rooms. He can tell immediately that Derek’s room is pretty much the entire loft. There’s a discarded wifebeater on the staircase railing that seems too big for Isaac, and opened books strewn everywhere. Isaac’s not a reading type. They could be Peter’s, but Peter seems too kept to himself.

Stiles goes into the open attachment, and sees two large mattresses stacked in the corner. There isn’t much in the room, just some wooden furniture and more books with bookmarks halfway through. Some clothes are piled in the corner, but overall it’s pretty neat. He rifles through the bedside table, and finds yet another book, some lip balm, coins, and – to Stiles’ surprise – some AstroGlide. He resists the urge to laugh because the werewolf in question happens to be missing, but he makes a mental note to tease Derek about that later.

His wardrobe is (not surprisingly) mostly greys and blacks, and Stiles doesn’t find anything in there either.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“JESUS,” Stiles jumps. He faces Isaac, clutching his chest. “Can you try to be a little less Derek-like with the whole scaring people and giving them attitude thing?!”

“What are you obsessing over dude, it’s Derek”

Stiles has just about had enough. “He gave you exactly what you wanted, you’re not afraid of getting beat up by anyone anymore and he took you in from the house that gives you nightmares. Are you even paying rent? You’ve got a killer view of the city and you’ve even got your own room upstairs, am I right?”

Isaac doesn’t say anything, but he turns his gaze to the floor.

“So he gives you a home, he probably feeds you - buys the groceries, makes dinner, all that junk, right? Did you ever tell Derek where you want to go to college? Did he offer to help you get there too? In fact, did you ever tell Derek anything? He seems like he listens to you a lot since he’s not super chatty himself.”

Isaac looks back up at him, and Stiles can’t be sure but he’s pretty positive he can see Isaac’s tears on the brink of spilling. He's worried he's pushed Isaac too far but - 

“Again, what exactly are you looking for? I can help.”

____\---_ _ _ _

It takes them about two hours to go over the whole loft and every little detail, but they don’t find anything.

“Are you sure, Stiles?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

Isaac looks hesitant and Stiles knows he’s about th _iiiiii_ s close to losing his attention. “Okay, wait, maybe we’re looking for the wrong clues.”

“We’ve been looking for _everything_.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe… Maybe I’m looking at this wrong. Okay, so you said nothing sticks out to you or is out of place, right?”

“Well, everything’s kind of out of place right now.” Stiles looks around. Okay, so maybe they kind of trashed the place in an attempt to find something.

“But, what about what’s missing?”

Isaac looks at him thoughtfully, encouraging Stiles to go on. “Like, is there maybe something Derek never leaves here without?”

Isaac seems a little lost in thought, eyes trailing over Derek’s room. “It doesn’t help that he doesn’t really let anyone in here…”

 _Probably because he’s lubing himself up for kinky werewolf sex_ , Stiles thinks to himself.

“… But this is kind of weird, I think,” Isaac concludes, gesturing to the closet.

“Is there some uh, colour missing?” Stiles guesses.

“I meant the fact that it’s so full. Don’t you think if you planned to be gone for a few days, you’d pack some clothes?”

Stiles licks his lower lip, and looks at Isaac with a hopeful face. “Yeah... Yeah! Isaac, you’re a genius!” He pulls the surprised blonde into a small bear hug.

“Get off. Also, this just confirms that Derek _might_ be missing.”

The glee of being right quickly leaves Stiles. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. We still have no idea where he went.”

“If it helps any, he wasn’t wearing a jacket when he left. Maybe he wasn’t expecting it to be cold so he could still be close by.”

“Don’t you guys have a fur jacket on hand at all times?”

Isaac glares at him. “It’s a bit of a fashion faux-pas to wear it in public.”

Stiles takes a moment to appreciate Isaac. “You’re funny, you know that? Why aren’t we buddies?” he asks semi-seriously.

Isaac just smiles.

“I’ve gotta tell Scott,” he says, already in the process of calling his best friend.

  
\---

Scott, Isaac, Stiles look at one another.

“I don’t know, I have no idea where he could be. He hasn’t mentioned anything prior.”

Scott nods along, trying to absorb all the facts. “Deaton says he isn’t sure either. He says there’s been no irregular activity in or around Beacon Hills that would make Derek leave.”

“Well, Derek’s pretty offensive right? He doesn’t seem like a big defense guy, so maybe something was on the way?”

Isaac nods in agreement. “There’s been a few times where we’ve gone to stop something before it reaches Beacon Hills. Shoulda seen the Vetala we took out like two weeks ago.”

“You guys go on hunting trips to protect Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks with a newfound respect for them.

“You guys go on hunting trips without telling me?” Scott asks. Stiles is pretty sure that’s jealousy in his voice.

Isaac shrugs. “Derek figures if he can take it on, we do it without involving anyone. All you do is complain you want to have a normal life anyway.”

Stiles looks at Scott and cocks his head. “He’s right about that, you know.”

Scott shakes his head in frustration. “I mean, yeah, I want to be normal, but I kind of accepted that’s not going to be a realistic… thing.”

“Well, Derek’s trying to give you what he can. And besides, I like our hunting trips without you,” Isaac teases.

Wow. Newfound respect indeed. Even Stiles didn’t take Scott’s life into that much consideration. He thought about what he said to Isaac. Did Derek really cook? Was he any good? What did he make? Did he wear a pink apron? A buzzing in his pocket brought him back to reality.

 **From: Lydia**  
I saw a basement. I think. What does that mean?

 **To: Lydia**  
What? What kind of basement? What else did you see?

 **From: Lydia**  
I don’t know. It was just an underground room. A really small one. With… stuff. I didn’t even see Derek, can it be something else?

 **To: Lydia**  
Lydia, I know it’s Derek. I just know it. What do you mean stuff? Any other details? Anything at all? Desperate.

 **From: Lydia**  
Stiles…

 **To: Lydia**  
LYDIA

 **From: Lydia**  
By stuff, I mean bars and chains and knives… Stiles, it looked like a goddamn torture room.

Stiles gulped and re-read the message. He noticed that Scott and Isaac had finally finished comparing notes and were looking at him intently.

“Lydia saw something.”

“Was it Derek?” Isaac asked.

“Not exactly.”

They urged him to go on, but Stiles’ mind was going into overdrive.

“She said it was a small room with bars.”

“Like a prison cell?”

“Also with chains.”

“Could it be the Eichen house?”

“Definitely not, I would’ve remembered seeing something like that.”

“Some other sort of institution maybe?”

“Do you know of any institutions that also have knives?”

Scott and Isaac were finally at a loss.

“At least he’ll heal, right?” Scott offered, trying to be optimistic.

“Isaac, tell us about the Vetala,” Stiles finally asked.

\---

 

“Well, shit.”

 

\---

Stiles was acutely aware of the paralyzing sensation that would come from a Vetala’s bite – he had already experienced it once with the Kanima. The thought of the Kanima brought him back to the time he and Derek got themselves trapped in the pool. Derek tried to save his life, actually. He always liked to remind Derek that he was the one to save them, keeping Derek afloat in the pool but in reality, Derek would never have been paralyzed if he hadn’t pushed Stiles out of the way of the Kanima’s reach.

_Man, that respect._

He had strategically placed himself between his two werewolves as they searched for Derek’s scent, but it wasn’t going as well as planned. The Temescal Mountain range was empty, but vast.

“It’s faint. He’s been here, but it must’ve been the first day he left Beacon Hills,” Isaac said. At that moment, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he reached in his pocket for his phone.

 **From: Derek**  
Get back to the loft, need to show u something

“Uhhhhh, guys?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Derek,” Isaac said, handing them his phone.

Stiles and Scott looked at each other in disbelief.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” Stiles said, grabbing the phone and reading it over. “There’s no way.”

Isaac seemed a little hesitant too.

“Show me your phones,” Stiles demanded, fishing his own out of his pocket. The text history between him and Derek were minimal, but he was on to something. He checked Scott’s and Isaac, who each had a longer history, and more proof that Derek hadn’t sent that message.

“See this abbreviation of ‘you’ – that doesn’t show up in any of Derek’s other text messages. And he writes in full sentences.”

“What if he was in a rush?”

“Okay, if he was in a rush, maybe, but it just doesn’t sound like Derek… Like, when he says ‘get to the loft’ well that kind of implies he’s not there either, otherwise he would say ‘come to the loft’. You ‘get’ somewhere else, right?”

“Okay…” Scott said. “Let’s assume you’re right about it not being Derek. Then somebody knows there’s nobody at the loft.”

“Well, we did turn off all the lights,” Isaac piped up. They turned to look at him. “What? Derek likes to conserve energy.”

Stiles could have bashed his head into a tree. Derek cares about the environment too? What is this guy, a saint?

“Well, I think it’s a trap. I think there’s some creepo holding Derek in a torture basement and his creepo partner is at the loft waiting to murder all our asses the moment we step in.”

“I should go check, at least.”

“No, we stick to the plan. We find Derek.”

“Stiles, I’m not doubting you, okay?” Isaac said. “But I have to make sure, whether it’s Derek or not. If you somehow find Derek, he’ll kill me for letting intruders in anyway.”

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

Scott agreed. “Isaac, you could be walking into a trap. You need back-up.”

“So does Derek, if he’s being kept somewhere by a lunatic.”

“Can you give Argent a call?” Scott suggested.

Isaac nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Find Derek,” he said, handing them the bundle in his pocket and sprinting off.

“Well looks like it’s you and me. Got my back, buddy?” Stiles asked nervously, trying to boost morale.

“Always,” Scott assured him, slipping the package into his pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott follows Derek’s scent, assuring Stiles it’s getting stronger. 

“What exactly does Derek even smell like?”

“Like a… I don’t know, I can’t describe it.”

“What do I smell like?” 

“I… I don’t know Stiles. It’s hard to describe, they’re just different.”

“Well think of it like word association, what’s the _first thing_ that comes to mind when I say Isaac?”

“Like someone spilled Nutella on the ground.”

“What?”

“He smells a little chocolate-y with hazelnut… but kind of earthy? I don’t know Stiles. This is stupid.”

“No, no, no. Scott, don’t you give up on me. I just thought it was… interesting.”

Scott grumbles something, then takes a sharp left, into the more woodsy area.

“So, what do I smell like?”

“Like Bounce sheets and energy.”

Stiles stopped in his tracks before quickly jogging to catch up to Scott. “Seriously? Bounce sheets?”

“Yes, bounce sheets.”

“What does energy smell like?”

“I don’t know Stiles. You. You smell like… energy. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“And Derek?”

“Like… I don’t know Stiles.”

“Come on, Scott! I bet he smells like sadness or something.”

“Despair, actually.”

Stiles didn’t question Scott about that one.

\---

“This… looks about right,” Stiles confirmed, looking at the dingy cellar doors in front of them. There were half-torn cement blocks around them, and Stiles pictured the building that used to be standing here to actually look a bit like a castle. 

The only thing left intact were the doors in front of them, solid and chained up. Scott tore at the chains, which completely exhausted him. They heaved the doors together, letting them fall with a giant crash, making them cringe.

“Whatever’s holding Derek is strong as hell,” Stiles grumbled, discouraged. 

“Or it could have friends,” Scott suggested optimistically.

“Yeah, not helping.” 

They walked down the precarious stairs, aware of the clanging of their shoes. “Why can’t Derek get captured by something deaf?” 

According to the research that Isaac and Derek evidently skipped, Vetalas hunt in at least pairs, never alone. The one they killed must have alerted its friend (or friends). Stiles read that they had paralytic bites, which resembled vampire bites. They fed on human blood and could toy with its prey for days before sucking them dry. Of course, the best part was that they had superhuman strength and hearing.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they tried to let their eyes adjust. Along one wall was a cell-like room, with bars from top to ceiling and a small barred window letting the moonlight in. The wooden pillars in the room had an assortment of chains and other mysterious devices hanging. 

“Derek?” Stiles whispered. 

Something scraped along the floor, causing them both to jump. 

“Deeeeeerek?” Stiles cooed softly. He walked around the wooden pillar in the centre of the room and dropped the flashlight before covering his mouth. 

He quickly launched himself to the ground beside the bloody figure that was supposedly Derek. “Jesus Christ, why aren’t you healing?”

There was no response from the still body, as Stiles tried to get the shackles off. “Scott?”

Scott leaned forward and grabbed the chains before quickly letting go. “Ah!”

“What? What is it?”

“Wolfsbane,” Scott muttered, eyes scanning the entrapment. The chains were smothered with wolfsbane from the shackles to the wall. His arms were trapped above his head, and his ankles chained to bolts in the floor and his shirt bloodied and torn. There was a bite mark in his neck which was still dripping with blood, indicating it was still fresh.

“Vetalas know about wolfsbane?! Seriously?!” Stiles whispered in frustration, looking around the room. “Hurry, Scott. They’re close by, the bite mark is fresh.”

“There’s nothing here!” Scott whispered back.

“Wait, here,” Stiles took off his sweater and t-shirt, wrapping them around Scott’s hands.

Scott nodded his approval of the idea before yanking the chains wide open off Derek’s right wrist. Just then, the door crashed open. The friends shared a panic look.

“Stiles, get Derek and get out, I’ll hold them off.”

Stiles nodded dumbly at his friend before Scott bounded up the stairs. “Okay, werewolf chain-ripping strength, let’s do this.”

He knew it was no use but he desperately looked around the room. He found scrap pieces of just about everything that wasn’t useful. 

“Derek, come on, you’re the only chance at getting yourself out here.”

He did the next best thing – he used his shirt to wipe up the wolfsbane from the chains, making sure to fold the shirt in on itself to prevent it from escaping or dropping on Derek’s body. Derek began to stir, which Stiles took as encouragement. 

He had to get the shackles around Derek’s ankles too but his shirt and sweater were laced with wolfsbane now. 

“Sorry Derek, this is probably the only shirt you own in an actual colour and I can’t believe I’m destroying it,” Stiles murmured. He took a tear in Derek’s shirt and yanked until the shirt was in pieces. Stiles wouldn’t forgive himself for it, but he snuck in a second to let his eyes soak in the sight. Derek’s body was _immaculate_. If it wasn’t for the extremely shallow breathing and multiple open wounds, Stiles would’ve taken a bit longer.

He quickly wiped away at the chains, making sure to squeeze the fabric between the chains and Derek’s skin, using his spit to clean it away (which we’re not going to tell Derek, okay?)

Derek coughed and Stiles finished up. He looked at Derek in anticipation, tapping his face. 

“Wake up, Derek.” 

A low grumble came from the man’s chest. “Yeah, that’s good, let’s go. Rise and shine.”

Derek finally cracked an eye open. “Stiles?” 

“Wow you’re doing the eyebrow thing even when you’re half-dead. Very impressive.”

“What are you…”

“Questions later, trust me. Right now, you gotta gather enough strength to yank these chains off yourself.”

“I…”

Stiles shook his head quickly in confusion. “You what? Please don’t say you can’t.”

Derek closed his eyes. 

“Derek! You _have_ to. Scott’s busy fending off that Vetala and _you_ need to get your werewolf butt in the game!”

“Vetala?” Derek said in surprise.

“Yeah, you and Isaac kinda skipped the part where they never hunt alone and always in a pair. Or a group.”

Derek closed his eyes again, looking like he had given up.

“Whoa, what are you doing? That is like, the complete opposite of what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Get Scott, and leave.”

Stiles was dumbfounded. _Unbelieveable!_ “Okay you obviously aren’t in your right mind and I’m going to give that to the nasty Vetala bite in your neck, but seriously dude. Wake up! Snap these chains off! Let’s go!”

Derek gave a weak attempt to bring his left arm down, but the chain didn’t budge.

“Seriously? Coach Finstock’s grandma could put in more effort than that. And she’s dead,” Stiles said. 

“I can’t, okay?” Derek growled.

“Well why not!” 

“I just can’t!” Derek nearly exploded. His head was throbbing in pain, the wounds becoming painfully obvious as his body cried out in protest against any movement. He swallowed thickly but his throat was beyond dry. He took a deep breath and waited for Stiles to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Stiles said defiantly, as if reading his mind. “I didn’t come all this way, I didn’t try to convince every single person for like three days just to have you give up on me.”

“You were the one who found me?” Derek asked in a surprised tone.

“Well I borrowed Scott’s nose for the tracking part, but yeah, I noticed you were gone and I roped Isaac into helping me search your stuff and realized you never packed a bag so you had to be taken against your will,” Stiles informed him. “By the way, didn’t realize you were an AstroGlide kind of guy,” he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Derek felt immensely violated, his cheeks burning with the intimate parts of life being revealed. “I’m going to rip your throat out.”

“With your teeth?” Stiles asked. “So I’ve heard. But you’re not gonna, not all chained up like that.”

Derek growled low in his throat, his eyes beginning to glow.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Stiles encouraged. 

Derek ‘s teeth came in, his growl now echoing and shaking the foundation of the building as he tore his left arm free. Exhausting himself, his human features settled in again as he lay against the wall, defeated.

“What? Come on, I know you can do better than that!”

“You’re wrong,” Derek said in a gruff voice.

“What is going on with you?” Stiles finally asked. He squatted down beside Derek, fully aware that his hands were now free. “You don’t give up, especially not this easily. You’ve got a pack member upstairs, who may or may not be dead and needs your help and you’re just going to sit here? You’re not even trying to heal yourself!”

Derek pushed Stiles, toppling him over onto his back.

“Nga!” He pushed himself up off the cold floor, his bare back prickling at the sensation. “I gave up my shirt for you, man!” 

A moment of silence passed between them. Stiles sighed, and once again approached the stubborn werewolf. He sat beside Derek, taking a clean swath of Derek’s torn up shirt to clean the wounds.

“What are you doing?”

“I came here for a purpose. It was to find you and bring you back – alive. If you’re not going to heal yourself, I’m going to do it myself.”

“You don’t understand,” Derek began.

“No, I don’t! You’re being stubborn and you’ve given up and this is more pessimistic than usual,” Stiles exploded. When Derek looked away, Stiles actually felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I’m sure you’re going through… a lot.”

“I can finish dying here,” Derek said in such a soft voice, Stiles barely heard it.

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t finish the job. I put you and Scott and Isaac in danger because I didn’t finish the job. I started it, and I should have finished it, but I didn’t. I should face the consequences.”

“Seriously, dude?” Stiles asked. “This is not the time for you to be mad at yourself. You missed a tiny part of the research, but that doesn’t mean anything. Everyone makes mistakes once in a while, and we’re here now, that’s what matters.”

“It’s not once in a while, that’s the problem.”

“… What?”

“It’s all the time. Every time. I’m always making mistakes that cost people.” 

“Is this… This isn’t about the Vetalas anymore, is it?”

There was another pause before Derek finally answered, “No.”

Stiles, for once, was speechless. 

“It’s about Erica… It’s about Boyd. It could be about Isaac or Scott or Cora any minute now. It’s… Jennifer and Kate my family. It’s about…”

“Paige wasn’t your fault. That was Peter, manipulating you.” 

Derek looked up at him in alarm. “How did you –”

“Your uncle’s got a bigger mouth than I do. But that’s not the point, your secret’s safe with me. But Paige wasn’t your fault. None of it is. I’ll tell you whose fault it is. Erica – that was Kali. She locked them up and toyed with them and they couldn’t possibly stand a chance against a well-trained alpha like her. Boyd? You had _three_ alphas force you to do it. Again, Kali’s a straight up bitch, but she’s dead now and there’s nothing you can do. Isaac’s told me that story a million times, Derek. You have to take Boyd’s words seriously – it’s okay. It’s okay because it’s not your fault. Boyd knew that, and if Boyd can forgive you – and remember, he’s the one who actually died – then you should be able to forgive yourself too. And I don’t even understand how you can blame yourself for Cora – you _saved_ Cora. You gave up everything you’ve been working towards, all that alpha power, to save her. You gave her a second chance at life, Derek, that’s something you should be proud about. Jennifer blinded everyone – we all fell for it, and the truth is, she was smokin’ so I don’t really blame you.”

“Are you done?” Derek asked, uncomfortable with the amount that Stiles was talking, but mostly with the points of conversation he was making.

“God no. We took Jennifer down, and we needed you to do that. You separated your feelings for her the instant Scott and I came to you and took her out, bouncing back from a lunar eclipse. That’s just incredible, Derek. The same goes for Kate – these women all pulled their stupid girly moves and used it to their advantage. You were young and I know exactly what it means to do stupid things in the name of a girl, so, really, you have to let those things go.”

He took a couple of deep breaths.

“Derek, I don’t know why you’re holding all of this against yourself, but if this is about finishing the job, if you don’t want to add Scott and Isaac to the list of people you’ve watched die, you’ve still got a chance. And we can finish this thing, together.”

“Don’t assume you know how I feel goddammit!” Derek’s shout bounced off the wall, louds enough to intimidate most people.

“I’m not afraid of you and your threats anymore Derek. To me, you’re the guy who gave Isaac a home and a potential future and gave Boyd and Erica a chance to fit in and be confident in themselves and you never asked for anything, not even rent. You’re the guy who watches out for Scott without him even knowing which means you don’t even want anything in return. You gave up your alpha status for your sister and even let Peter in because he was family and you believed in second chances. You genuinely care about people. And the environment, which I think is just adorable.”

Derek glared at him.

“If I were you, I’d feel pretty good about myself and not all this –”

 _Despair._

_Ah, hell._ “Derek, please, just trust me,” Stiles pleaded, understanding why Scott picked up that scent with all the discouragement and unhappiness. “I’m going to show you hope and happiness still exist, but you have to follow me. Okay?”

Heartbeat. Sweaty palms. These were things that Derek could pick up on with his eyes.

The energy was like static. The scent was intoxicating. And there it was: hope.

Derek exhaled deeply. He willed himself to believe in the words that the naïve kid in front of him was saying, but his own thoughts and memories kept resurfacing. 

Stiles edged closer, he could tell that Derek was trying to listen to his heartbeat for a lie, or sniffing out deceit. He remembered what Scott had said earlier about his scent. 

“I know you smell it. I asked Scott what I smell like. Bounce sheets was kind of nice, I like the smell of laundry, but he said something about energy, because he couldn’t describe it.”

“It’s hope,” Derek said plainly.

“Huh.” Stiles thought about it, smiling. “I like it. Very hope-y, that’s me. He also mentioned what you smell like.”

Derek rose an eyebrow, his interest peaked.

“He said… despair.”

Derek froze before nodding eventually. It made sense, and he could deny it all he wanted, but the wolf’s senses aren’t wrong. 

“Derek,” stiles pleaded. He felt like he had been down here for hours. He could hear voices upstairs and what vaguely sounded like Scott so he tried to relax. He was racking his brain for ideas – how do you make someone see hope? The wounds were still bleeding even though the wolfsbane had mostly been taken off. 

“Oh to hell with it,” Stiles said. _I’m so going to regret this later when I’m skewered on his Derek’s claws_. He grabbed Derek’s face and kissed him – hard. There was desperation and pleading mixed with hope and prayers. _Please, work._ He needed Derek to believe that someone loved him, that someone needed him to get out of this alive, that someone’s very life depended on his survival. Most of it was true, at least. Derek’s lips were a bit dry from being held in captivity, and as Stiles ran his tongue along Derek’s bottom lip, he tasted the coppery tang of blood. He quivered when their bare skin touched, the heat from Derek’s skin almost searing. 

When Derek pushed him off and glared at him with glowing eyes, Stiles shrugged slightly. “I need you Derek. I can’t let you give up on me.” As he spoke the words, the truth behind them hit Stiles pretty hard. He _did_ need Derek around – Derek was a constant in his life. When Scott had Kira, when his dad had long hours at work, when Lydia has her pick of Jackson or any other guy alive pretty much, there was still Derek. Always Derek.

To his surprise, Derek snapped off the chains around his ankles with ease. When Stiles got a good look at him in the moonlight, his wounds had pretty much healed. The bite mark was slowly closing, scabs disappearing. 

“Let’s go,” was all Derek said, making his way to the stairs and having Stiles scramble after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek still scares the shit out of Stiles, Stiles pulls a Derek on Scott, relations are on the mend, and Isaac sees a future for Beacon Hills with Derek's help and Stiles' encouragement.

When they reached the top, Isaac and Scott were surrounded by the bodies of four Vetalas, and were busy fending off three others.

Stiles saw them each taking and delivering blows, parrying the bites as best they could. _Where’s the knife? Where’s the knife?_

Meanwhile, Derek let out a growl that very nearly blew Stiles eardrums out as he scrambled around the room frantically searching for a gleam of silver. 

He went straight for the Vetala on Scott’s back and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. He yanked the predator off the smaller werewolf, throwing her against a slab of ruined marble, the sickening crack of her skull echoing in the night. Scott didn’t waste any time disposing of the Vetala in front of him, but no matter how badly they were injured, they wouldn’t die without the blade.

“Isaac!” Derek warned, watching him duck and roll, wrestling with his foe. He made a move to help before the largest of the flock tackled him. “Scott, get to Isaac!” 

_Jesus Christ where is this fucking thing?_ Stiles thought frantically, turning leaves and rocks over. He hears a thunderous noise and looks over to see Derek, slammed into a nearby tree with two Vetala snapping their jaws at him. He headbutts one to get his arm free before getting into an all-out wrestling match with the bigger one. She screeches at him, trying to snap his neck in half. He snarls in rebuttal, digging his claws into her hands. He brings his knee up and the moment of weakness is all he needs. As soon as she doubles over, he wrenches his hands from her grasp and slashes at anything he can reach – her neck, arms, sides – anything that was exposed. Stiles realizes he’s never seen Derek so vicious and a part of him wonders if it was partially due (or entirely due) to the idiotic move he pulled back in the basement. 

Derek’s fighting seems to get more and more ferocious and less controlled – he looks _angry_. Stiles catches a glimpse of silver when Derek’s foot catches on a branch or root of some sort. It’s covered again by the leaves, and Stiles starts to make his way over to the dangerous brawl. There’s fangs and claws and Stiles just wants to live through this, though he’s pretty sure Derek’s going to impale him anyway.

_With his claws! His claws._

_Christ._

Stiles shakes his head because he can’t seem to think straight. _How am I supposed to get over there without turning into spaghetti noodles?_

Derek’s making a bit of headway, but they don’t seem to be moving away from the knife at all. Stiles takes a deep breath to prepare himself. _This is the second dumbest thing I’ve done tonight._ He makes a frantic lunge for the spot where he’s certain the knife is and quickly brushes the leaves away. He hears a vague cry of his name, but he sees it now – he reaches to grab it, and the moment he feels his fingers curl around the handle of the blade, relief surges through him. Suddenly, he sees Derek’s broad shoulders hover over him and he realizes Derek’s fending off the nasty Vetala. 

_Oh my god, is he saving my ass right now?_ Stiles is between embarrassment and flattery but moves quickly, he gets to feet and sidesteps just as Derek is being thrown backward. She’s on him as quick as a bolt of lightning and Derek barely manages to flip them over. Stiles looks down at his hand. _Duh!_ He races over to Derek, whose barely keeping the monster down and shoves in her chest ( _ew!_ ) before she slashes at him. He winces in pain, but manages to turn the knife, with Derek’s help. The Vetala crumbles to dust beneath Derek and for a second, Stiles thinks he might be grateful. 

The look that Derek shoots him proves him utterly wrong. There’s nothing but rage. 

Scott and Isaac helped Derek up and out from the rummage.

"Stiles, are you okay?"

"I've never been in so much pain in my life," Stiles gasped. "So yeah, I'm fine." He clutched his ribs and gasped. He lets himself be handled by Scott, flopping around before he’s leaning heavily on his friend’s shoulder. Derek’s in the same situation with Isaac, and together, the four of them limp/drag their friends to safety to bandage Stiles up and leave Derek on a soft surface.

 

\---

 

With midterms coming up, Stiles tried his hardest to concentrate with the little time he had left, to no avail. The Adderall isn't seem to be helping much and all he could think about the look Derek gave him earlier. He itched at his side absentmindedly, remembering the flaring burn of the claws that had come in contact with him. He was so lost in thought he didn't realize someone was in his house until the door flew open. 

"MY GOD!" Stiles shouted as he jumped out of his chair. He half expected Scott, but came face to face with none other than Derek Hale. 

"You're going to tell me what was going through that idiotic mind of yours," Derek said in a low voice. Stiles couldn't tell what Derek's eyes held other than anger. A lot of anger. 

"My failing grade if I don't study, which you have now interrupted?"

"The truth, Stiles," Derek demanded. "You know what I'm referring to."

"I did the thing because... I thought you could use a pick-me-up? That was kind if the truth," Stiles tried. 

"The _whole_ truth."

"Honestly, I just..." He tried to make up for the rest if the sentence with vague head gestures. 

"You just what?" If it was at all possible, Derek's voice was getting stonier by the second. 

"Okay seriously, why are you trying to make this so uncomfortable?!" 

Derek's eyes were unblinking. Were they getting a little more blue? 

"... Because I wanted to," Stiles said at last, as quietly as possible. He didn't look up, not even when he heard Derek's steps fading as they left. Not even when the door opened and hit behind him, not even when he heard the purr of the engine roll away. 

_Goddammit, Derek Hale._

Stiles sighed in frustration as his thoughts began to swim again. _Derek Hale. Derek. Hale. Kiss. Kissing Derek Hale. Despair. Kiss. Blood. Despair._

He slammed his textbooks shut.

\---

Stiles felt more miserable than usual at school – the ticking of the clock emphasized his weariness as his eyes tried to focus on the test in front of him. He vaguely remembers bubbling a lot of scantron sheets, erasing a lot of answers and his hand cramping around third period. When the final bell rang, he sprung up and bolted from the school, desperate for the day to be over. 

The glee quickly faded when he noticed Derek leaning against the side of his Camaro, arms folded across his chest, eyes stormy and staring at straight at Stiles.

He looked around to see if maybe, with any luck, he was pointing at Scott, but of course there was no one else around. Tentatively, he ignored every one of his body’s reactions, and walked toward the danger since this particular danger could pretty much chase him down in less than five seconds. 

“Stalking me now?” Stiles said, attempting cheeriness.

“Get in the car.”

 _Okay, forget the cheeriness._ There was a pooling sense of dread as he obeyed, wondering if Scott was close enough to intervene should Derek finally decide to _actually_ rip his throat out. 

Once they were both in the car, doors slammed shut, Stiles began to fidget more so than usual. “Are you going to rip my throat out now or?”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Okay, so it was the Derek they were all used to, but that didn’t make it any less aggravating.

“I was trying to help, you know,” Stiles blurted out, unable to take a moment more of silence with _Derek freakin’ Hale_. 

“I know.”

“I – wait, what?” 

“I know,” Derek repeated through clenched teeth.

“So – you’re not… mad?”

Derek sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that even Stiles couldn’t fill.

“So why did you want to talk to me if you weren’t going to threaten me?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Seriously you need to expand your vocabulary a little bit dude.”

“You…” Derek started before breathing deeply. “Just, don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother?” Stiles retorted defensively. “ _Don’t bother_? Don’t bother _saving your life_?” He surprised himself at the way he raised his voice and he half expected Derek to beat the crap out of him for it but the wolf just looked at him, eyebrow cocked.

“Exactly,” he stated. Just like that.

He leaned over, and Stiles’ heart skipped a beat, almost about to call out for Scott. Instead, Derek reached for the handle of the passenger seat and opened Stiles’ door. “I don’t need your help. Now get out.” 

Stiles dumbly followed the instructions, watching Derek speed away the moment the door clicked shut and wondering why he was worrying so damn much. 

\---

_Hey, this is Scott. Sorry I couldn’t come to the phone right now, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can._

“Scott freakin’ McCall, you better learn to answer my goddamn calls before I rip your throat out –”

Stiles paused, surprised at the threat but decided to keep going anyway. 

“– with my teeth. Yeah. You heard me. Speaking of ripping throats out, I’m on my way to Derek’s. I don’t know if you heard everything that night or if you were too busy fending off Vetala claws, but I sort of kissed Derek and yes, I realize how terrible of an idea that sounds but it was to save the stupid guy’s life and I saw him after school today – no he didn’t hurt me – but there’s something really off about that guy. And I think… I think he needs help. So I’m going over, and the point of this message is if you don’t hear from me within the next couple of hours GET YOUR WEREWOLF ASS DOWN TO HIS LOFT AND AVENGE MY DEATH. Okay. Bye.”

He inhaled deeply, half wondering if Scott would get his message in time and half wondering what the hell he was doing. It was too late to go back on the idea, so he drove himself over, going over the lines in his head. 

Derek’s less-than-gleeful face ripped the door open before Stiles could even knock.

“Okay, seriously, does nobody in this household learn to just let a guy knock?”

“What are you doing here?” Derek growled.

“To talk. We seriously need to talk,” Stiles said, slipping under Derek’s arm and into the loft.

“No, we don’t,” Derek snapped, following Stiles, who had flopped down onto Derek’s bed.

“Mmm, very comfy,” Stiles commented, fluffing a pillow. 

Derek sat down, on a chair, facing the bed. His body was rigid as if containing himself. 

Since Stiles knew how chatty Derek was – i.e. not at all – he launched into his prepared speech.

“Look, you’re acting really strange and I just want to let you know that talking about things is _okay_. People go through difficult things, and I’m imagining that _werewolves_ trying to live a human life go through a _shitload_ of difficult things. You’re trying to push everyone away, and I get it, I kind of annoy you – ”

The look that Derek shot made Stiles stumble over his words.

“Okay, I _super_ annoy you, but the things is, we all care about what’s going on with you. And over the past few days, I’ve been thinking that _a lot_. And if it’s about…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say _kiss_. “If it’s about what happened that night, in the basement, I can pretend like it never even occurred, if that’s what you want.”

“Why. Are. You. Here,” Derek asked again, seemingly ignoring everything Stiles was saying.

It frustrated Stiles beyond anything else. “To fix things!” He practically shouted, breathing heavy. It dawned on him just then that Stiles was there for a lot of reasons: he wanted to fix things between him and Derek, he wanted Derek to open up to him, he wanted to make sure Derek wasn’t feeling awkward…

“I’m here because I’m worried about you,” Stiles finally admitted, exhaustion in his voice. There was no point in denying it anymore. “We all care about you, genuinely care about you. When I showed up the other day to ask Isaac for help, we rummaged through the whole loft looking for clues. He was so desperate to help. And Scott, he’s worried about everyone, sure, but he hasn’t forgotten the fact that you’ve always been there to help – even though some of your tactics are a little unorthodox. Erica, Boyd, they looked up to you, they knew you took care of them...”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek’s voice came. It wasn’t as hostile as it was, but Stiles heard the roughness behind it, like he was pushing everything away.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself – to us. You’re pushing everyone away because you’ve had a bad past, but when are you going to understand it’s not your goddamn fault!”

“Stiles,” Derek said, eyes staring intensely at the boy, blue rimming his irises. 

“I just… You sounded like you didn’t want me to care. You said to not bother saving your life. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Lydia – you need to start caring about what happens to you, and not just everyone else around you. Death doesn’t happen to you, Derek. It happens to everyone around you. Who do you think is going to hurt when you’re not gone? We’ll all be there at your funeral, wondering how the hell we’re supposed to live our lives without you.”

“Stop – ”

“And I’m going to be standing there, thinking _what could I have done? Is this my fault? Maybe I never should have kissed him_. And then I’ll look around at all the faces of those mourning you – I’m going to have to look Isaac in the eye and tell him ‘I’m sorry for taking away your second family’ and I’m going to look at Scott and say ‘I’m sorry for taking away your mentor’ and I’m going to - ”

“STILES!” Derek shouted this time, his voice powerful and demanding enough that Stiles instantly shut up, just realizing that his lower lip was trembling from the overwhelming emotion. He remembered standing at his Mom’s funeral, wondering if he could have done anything to save her, looking at his dad’s face and thinking how he was going to make it up to his dad. The loss was too much to handle – he couldn’t attend Derek’s funeral too.  
 _“Just, don’t bother.”_

_“Don’t bother saving your life?!”_

_“Exactly.”_

The whole conversation he had with Derek earlier just sounded too much like giving up – he worried the entire evening about Derek doing something stupid and getting himself killed, and Stiles being too late this time. 

“Stop crying,” Derek said softly.

Stiles was surprised at the lack of hostility but sniffled anyway. “Derek, you’re always throwing yourself in front of people to take the blow… but just… Please, just, stop.”

“I have to protect my pack,” Derek said tersely in a low voice. “Have to take away their pain.”

“Well you can’t protect them if you’re dead,” Stiles snapped back. _And we’d be in a lot more pain if you died on us, goddammit._

“My whole pack,” Derek emphasized, looking at Stiles, noticing Stiles had said “them” instead of “us”. 

“I… Me?”

“You’re pack too,” Derek almost whispered. 

Stiles knew this wasn’t the appropriate moment to get all soft because he still hadn’t made Derek promise to keep safe, but he was an emotional wreck right now. Between Derek and his mom and even the rest of the pack (which he was part of!) there were so many people to worry about, so much loss he was going through. 

“Then protect us by sticking around,” Stiles insisted. “We can all do our part, if you just let us. I know you don’t think you need help, and the hunting trips you and Isaac are going on are great, but let me and Lydia help with the research part, at least. Can we do that?”

Derek looked at him thoughtfully before nodding slowly. 

Stiles felt triumphant. “Good. See, that wasn’t too hard was it? That way we can all have some peace of mind knowing you’ve got all the information at your disposal. And I know you werewolves can take away physical pain, but we’re pretty tough. It’s the emotional pain we all have to deal with.”” He saw that Derek was still healing, drained from the wolfsbane and the Vetala fight so he made a move to get off the bed and start heading out. 

“And I’m sorry, about what I did. I didn’t know how else to snap you out of,” Stiles said, a little sheepish, doing up his jacket. 

Derek cocked his head, like he was studying Stiles. He got up off his chair and walked over. To Stiles’ surprise, he hugged Stiles and said into his ear, “Thank you. For saving my life.” He let go to walk Stiles to the door, not noticing the blush creeping along Stiles’ cheeks. 

Stiles could barely function, feet threatening to trip. _Did Derek Hale just voluntarily make human contact? With me?_

While Derek opened the door, Stiles was still frozen in spot.

“Oh hey” came Isaac’s voice. “You starting to wait up for me now?”

Derek’s voice was at ease. “Stiles dropped by, I was just going to walk him out.”

Isaac scanned the room and found Stiles with a surprised face. He nooded in Stiles’ direction. “Hey,” he said casually, like Stiles being at Derek’s place was a regular thing. 

“Hungry?” Derek asked, equally nonchalantly. 

Stiles was in awe of how the two had grown so close and family-like. He almost giggled at the thought of Derek being a caring and doting father, but it was too great a scene to pass up.

“Yeah actually,” Isaac said, dropping his bag and jacket off by the staircase.

“I’ll make dinner,” Derek offered, and Isaac smiled appreciatively. “Stiles, have you eaten?”

He had actually eaten some leftovers before he came, but he was so nervous he had only managed to stomach a few bites.

“Uh…”

“Just stay,” Isaac groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Um. Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

Derek got to work, and Stiles watched in fascination while absentmindedly chatting with Isaac at their stools. He was growing to like Isaac a lot more, he had the kind of humour and sarcasm that Scott didn’t, and Stiles was seriously wondering why they weren’t friends before this whole werewolfmania.

“So, mouth-to-mouth with Cora, eh?” Isaac said with a grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows. He glanced over to see Derek’s shoulders tense and laughed out loud. 

“At first I was like ‘Aw man, Derek’s going to kill me for this’ but then I was like ‘Man, Derek’s going to kill me for not doing this’ so I went for it. And my magical kiss brought her back from the dead.”

Isaac’s full laugh had him launching backward, eyes shut and smile wide. He slapped the countertop at Stiles story in combination with Derek’s discomfort. 

“Aw man, you’re a lucky son of a gun,” Isaac commented, winking at Derek’s scowl. In turn, Derek poured them all a glass of water, deliberately spilling some on Isaac’s pants.

“You’re the most mature,” Isaac muttered, wiping away at it with a cloth. Derek merely smirked and set the plates down in front of everyone. Stiles was feeling way more relaxed seeing the goofy side of both Derek and Isaac. Then the smell of his food hit him like a truck.

“Wow, that smells amazing,” Stiles commented, inhaling deeply. Derek smiled appreciatively, and Stiles was taken aback by how much more alive Derek looked when he was happy and at ease. _Why don’t you smile more often_ he wondered, watching Derek neatly pick up his penne pasta one or two at a time and making quick work with his chewing. Isaac on the other hand speared his pasta until he had about four or five suckers on his fork before shoving the whole thing in his mouth. It made his cheeks bulge and slowed his chewing down but if the look on his face said anything, he enjoyed it. 

“Amazing,” Isaac said through his stuffed mouth. 

Derek laughed – actually laughed – at Isaac’s ridiculousness. “I’ll teach you one day,” he said.

Stiles shook his head slightly in disbelief. Dark, broody Derek who he thought was suicidal about ten minutes ago was smiling, laughing, cooking dinner and offering to teach. It was amazing, really, how much Derek hid underneath and cold exterior. 

“Is it okay?” Derek asked Stiles, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah!” Stiles hurried to say. “It’s like, the best pasta I’ve ever had.” 

Derek gave a small smile, and cleared his plate. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Isaac, about the centre we discussed. But I figure Stiles’ opinion couldn’t hurt.”

“Definitely,” Isaac said, brightening up. 

“Centre?” Stiles asked, intrigued. 

Derek nodded. “Isaac’s been bothering me about it, but it’s not a bad idea. I think the hospital’s been overwhelmed since the downtown location has been undergoing some construction. Isaac’s thinking about setting up a sort of… healing centre.”

“Like physiotherapy?” 

Isaac smirked. “Try takeawaythepainapy.”

Stiles eyes bugged as he processed what they were saying. “You want to openly invite people to hold a werewolf’s hand so you can take some of their pain away?!”

“Relax, we’re not outing ourselves,” Derek said. “We’re working on a way to do it in a subtle manner. Pass it off as spiritual healing or something, as long as people believe it’s working, and we provide the service, it’ll be fine. Like massage therapy, so people can’t see what we’re doing.”

The idea of Derek in a massage therapy centre made Stiles want to burst out laughing, but the look in Isaac’s eyes told him this was really important, and he thought it was pretty fantastic that Derek was willing to help.

“So you set up a massage therapy centre to help people out, that’s pretty awesome,” Stiles said. It was actually a nice idea. “Why’d you think of it?” he asked Isaac.

He shrugged modestly. “I went to visit Scott at Deaton’s once… When he showed me what I could do, it was just… This incredible feeling.” His eyes shone and glazed over like he was reliving the moment. “I don’t know how to describe it but I put my hand to this little dog and all at once it was like I was changing its life.”

Stiles nodded understandingly. “Scott told me he learned to do that with Deaton too… Told me he cried.”

“I did too,” Isaac said seriously. 

“Really?”

“Really,” Isaac said in a stern voice.

It wasn’t scrutinizing, but he’d seen and heard Scott cry a hundred times. His parents had some serious issues and Stiles was his best friend, it was just a given. But Isaac and Derek were two people he never even tried to picture crying.

“Dude, that’s awesome,” Stiles said. “You guys should totally do it. I bet Scott’s mom would put in a good word for you and refer clients.”

Isaac relaxed again and nodded enthusiastically. “It’d be nice. Derek’s been teaching me to control it a lot better, so I can take more pain without feeling it myself all that much. And he’s taught me about extending my threshold so I know when to stop.” 

Stiles was really liking the idea. They talked a bit more about it, and Stiles was finding that they were really great company. He didn’t know if he managed to fix things with Derek yet, but this was definitely a good start and as he watched Derek’s smile grow throughout the night, something told him they weren’t done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with all this slow-build and overwhelming dialogue from Stiles, I hope y'all stick around for the finale. The second part to this story will be uploaded through the next month or so. I've got some things in store for you including some wolf!Derek, some angst and some fluff ~
> 
> Feel free to drop by sterek--smut.tumblr.com! <3


End file.
